Kingdom of Rust
by Unicornglitterpants
Summary: Sequel to "Butterflies & Hurricanes". Daryl kept her sane, but it's Negan who will make her strong. Rated M for language, gore, and potential smut.
1. Chapter 1

**So, after the overwhelming response I got to introducing Negan into the last chapter of "Butterflies & Hurricanes", there was no way I was just going to leave it there, even though that was the perfect ending (by my reckoning, anyway). Anyone who is reading this now, that did not read the first story in the series, please go back and read the last chapter, at least. I'd throw in reading the first chapter as well just so you get an understanding of who Julie (my OC) is. **

**Just like with its predecessor, this story will deviate from show and comic cannon. This is my interpretation of the series, which I base more heavily on the series rather than the comic. I will try my damndest to stay true to the characters Kirkman created. I'm open to any and all feedback and I actually appreciate it a great deal. I'll try not to change anything major, but no promises. Also, it's really hard for me to write these characters. It's some of the most challenging writing I do, which is one of the main reasons I enjoy it, but it's so hard for me to figure out whether I get it down right or not.**

 **Also, I'm putting up a poll for all the people who read the first one. Who should Julie end up with, Daryl or Negan? So make sure to vote.**

 **Please read and review and enjoy. I really hope I did "The Walking Dead" justice with this.**

* * *

1\. Kismet

* * *

Julie's breath hitched and her throat went dry. The crunch of gravel under his boots echoed into the night loudly and she wanted to take a step back, maintain the space between them, but the look in his eyes had her frozen in place. He stopped just before her and slowly looked her over from head to toe. He looked absolutely fascinated, elated, and so much more.

"You got a name, Sweetheart," he asked. It took her a moment to open her mouth. "Julie," she managed breathlessly. He was still grinning that damn grin and somehow, it was even wider than before. "Julie," he repeated slowly, each syllable rolling off his tongue in a way that had her gulping nervously. It sounded absolutely sinful coming from him and she had no doubt in her mind that she was standing in front of the devil himself.

"Julie," he repeated to himself absently, and he leaned toward her. "It suits you."

Her heart beat painfully in her chest. _Daryl_. Daryl had told her that, too. She swallowed thickly as the moment broke and the agony of the past few days washed over her. Her legs shook and her knees gave out without warning as her stance wavered almost violently. But there was a leather clad arm around her waist and a hard chest pressed against her own. She blinked stupidly up at him. That smile of his, which had been so predatory before was now almost boyish in nature. "Fallin' for me already?"

Her hands were on his shoulders, clutching his jacket. "It's been a long day."

"Well, Sweetheart, _Julie_ ," he said, pulling his head back to look at her better, "I think maybe I should take you back to my place."

 _No._

Reacting purely on instinct, Julie shoved herself away from him and glared, clenching her jaw and tensing her muscles. She may have landed back in the gravel and the dust, but fight him she would. Several of Negan's men leveled their guns at her. Negan lifted his hands in the air, his bat still clutched in one hand. "Whoa, whoa, I didn't fucking mean it like that. _Fuck, **no**_ , that's not at _all_ what I meant. So just calm the fuck down and let's talk."

When she didn't make a move or speak, he motioned for his men to lower their weapons and then looked down at her again. The last of her adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she couldn't stop her arms from shaking. He tapped his baseball bat against his boots and ran his tongue over his teeth. "My name, which you know, is Negan. And I am in fucking charge around here. I'm in charge of a lot of people. A _lot_ of fucking people. And I have a lot of fucking shit that I am more than willing to share with you if you decide to come back with me."

He crouched down in front of her and Julie didn't so much as lean away from him. She wasn't scared. She was just spent and he seemed to realize that. That ever handsome grin was back on his face. It was wolfish and boyish all at once and his dimples added another layer of charm that she hadn't thought possible. If she hadn't already been weak in the knees before, she surely would have been then. He leaned further into her space, tipping further onto his booted toes toward her and lowered his voice. "You are not afraid of me. _I like that_. _I like it a **lot**_." The grin almost became crazed for a moment. "You _fascinate_ me, Sweetheart, and just this once, I am not above begging for you to come home with me."

Even behind the mania, she could hear the sincerity in his words and when she tilted a little bit too far, her arms as shaky and weak as her legs, he reached out one gloved hand to steady her. She lowered her eyes to where his hand was settled gently, but firmly on her arm and then looked up at him. "Come with me," he urged, his voice barely above the whisper of a lover. Their eyes ran over one another's faces, drunk on the appearance of one another.

Julie couldn't find the words to respond and so she nodded minutely, but it wasn't enough for him to let out a gleeful hoot of triumph and she wondered if there had ever been a man who looked quite as happy as Negan did at that moment. It almost made her smile. He stood and held out a hand for her, which she did not hesitate in taking, and he hauled her up onto her unsteady feet and slowly guided her to his truck, grin still firmly in place. "Now, home isn't exactly the Goddamn Plaza Hotel, which," he paused and let his eyes travel over her dress pointedly, "you may be accustomed to, but it is home-fucking-sweet-as-tits-home and me and my boys making it fucking work! Don't we boys?"

He called the last bit over his shoulder and a few men hollered in agreement. Julie stayed silent, but didn't take her eyes off him. He glanced down at her and when she made no move to respond she watched as his expression became slightly less animated and more cautious. What ever spell had been woven between them before had broken and they were now regarding one another with much less rose colored glasses. He saw her as a threat, she realized and it was safer for him if he did. She didn't want to hurt him. Knowing that was disconcerting. Somehow, even though she sensed the danger emanating off him, she didn't want to bring him to any harm. He'd saved her life after all. But there was something else, something she couldn't quite pinpoint. The jovial expression on his face had slowly given way to a sense of lurking aggression that seemed to be just simmering beneath the surface. She'd seen it before in herself on quite a few occasions.

He had saved her. Just like Merle had saved her once. That meant something to her, whether Negan realized it or not. Maybe he expected her to repay him for it. It would only be fair. She would repay him. She would make sure he knew just what it meant to her. Maybe, one day, she'd end up saving his life.

She looked over at Negan as they tore out of the rest station parking lot, a procession of vehicles close behind. The atmosphere in the truck was stifling and it irked her that he seemed completely fine with it. She needed something to distract her from the worry that was finally creeping into her gut. She had no idea where she was being taken, what they had planned for her, or if she was even going to be alive for long. It irked her that it seemed she'd forgotten all about the idea of it being a ruse. She dropped her gaze to the bat in his lap, fresh blood still drying on the wiring wrapped around the end. "I like your bat." Her words were stilted, but it would have to do as a conversation starter. He afforded her a single look, unreadable and searching and she couldn't quite fathom what he was looking for.

"Lucille."

She turned her head toward him, brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

His eyes flicked over in her direction for an instant before they returned to the road. "Her name. It's Lucille."

"Oh." She faced forward and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. The cab of the truck felt incredibly cramped and tense. "Well, she's pretty."

Julie cringed inwardly. She hadn't really meant that the way it sounded, but she couldn't think of a proper compliment. "Boy, I like the way she bashes people's heads in and makes grown men piss themselves," just didn't sound sincere enough. Her lips twitched at the thought of saying it out loud. He probably would have liked that.

"Thanks," he muttered out, leaning against his own window. She cleared her throat and stared out mindlessly on the road in front of them until her eyelids grew heavy and she rubbed them repeatedly in a vain attempt to stay conscious.

"Why were those shitheads so pissed at you?"

She blinked at him a few times as her tired mind tried to process his words. "Oh, I killed a bunch of people, left them to turn, blew up their armory, and essentially destroyed the community they did the most business with. I'm guessing there wasn't much left judging by how pissed they were."

"The fuck are you wearing that dress for anyway? I mean, it's a nice fucking dress, but what the fuck?"

She smooth her fingers over the velvet fabric covering her lap, fingering the folds. "The night I escaped, they were having a celebration to celebrate having survived the past three years. The man who bought me-"

" _Bought_ you?"

Julie looked him over, her eyes searching. "Yeah, _bought_ me. Those guys back there are the ones who sold me. They sold me for ammo."

"What, like some fucker offered them a couple bullets for you like some backwoods dowry or some shit?"

"No, like there was an auction and his bid was the highest."

"They fucking _auctioned you off_? How big was this place?!"

"I didn't take measurements, I was a little busy trying to plan my fuckin' escape, you know, priorities and shit."

He returned her scowl with one of his own and they face forward again, Julie crossing her arms. She rested her head against the window, letting the cold glass cool down her cheek and closed her eyes, falling asleep within moments.

And she dreamed. She dreamed of the soldiers who'd taken her and Gretchen and sold her. Only they didn't sell her to the man from Mountaincrest. They sold her to the men from the woods down in Georgia. The one whose nose she'd bitten off stood over her and watched while they held her down, and one of the men squeezed her neck so tightly she couldn't breathe. Someone ran their hand down her arm and she jerked away when she realized they were tracing the scar that ran the length of her upper arm. The hand moved into her hair, cupped the side of her jaw and pulled at her gently; it didn't tug at her hair forcefully like she expected. She felt warmth and the forest floor wasn't so hard and unyielding and the wind that danced through her hair felt suspiciously like fingers. But it was quiet there and the men were all gone and she was alone, but it felt safe and her world lulled into darkness finally.

When she awoke several hours later, she jolted upright and looked around frantically. She wasn't in her dress anymore, but a plain white tee-shirt and...clean cotton underwear. She pulled herself up against the headboard and almost sobbed in relief when very specific parts of her body didn't burn or ache. As her dream flashed through her memory she remembered the past few weeks and relief gave way to anger and loneliness.

"Do, you really fucking think I'd save you from being raped just so I could do it myself?" She jumped at the deep voice that emanated from the other side of the room. Negan was sitting on a couch with a lapful of paperwork and his gaze was equal parts reproachful and insulted.

"I don't really do well with people I don't know," she tried to excuse and he tilted his head to the side, that searching look of his penetrating and more invasive than expected. "And the people you _do_ know?"

She hugged her arms around her middle and looked away while she shrugged. "Don't do so well with them either." As an afterthought, she added, "I'm kind of a bitch."

He laughed loudly at that, but didn't respond, and instead went back to the paperwork in his hands. Finally, Julie ventured forward and sat down on the other side of the bed, closest to the man still wearing the leather jacket and let her eyes trail over the room leisurely. Everything was done up in the same shade of grey. There were real plants over by the window, which all had actual matching curtains that weren't covered in dust and moth-eaten. The shelving on the other side of the room was covered in books and strangely minimalist vases and bottles that she wondered if he'd lifted from Pier 1 at some point. And there was a television. Was it ornamental or did it actually work. The bed she was sitting on looked like it was always made up with freshly laundered sheets and she pressed her hand atop the mattress firmly, raising an eyebrow when her suspicious that it had a pillow top on it were confirmed.

"So, what do you think of my not-so-fucking-humble abode?" He raised his arms outward and the words just tumbled from her lips without forethought. "Did you rescue Martha Stewart, too? Because it looks like she threw up in here."

He grinned at her, boyish and full of mirth. "Believe it or not, I did not have anything to do with decorating this place. I had someone else do it for me."

"Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

His toothy grin widened. "Exactly, Sweetheart, you get it. Boy, do you ever get it." The look on his face became thoughtful and he stood up then, slowly coming to stand in front of her.

"It's a little late to be giving you the Grand Tour. But you look like you could use some fucking food. Am I right?"

She nodded and his grin grew. He threw open the door to the room and yelled. "Someone getting me some fucking food. And none of that slop, shit you fuckers all eat. Get me something good or I'll fucking bash your faces in!" He slammed the door without a word and his grin had that crazed quality to it. "You'll like it here, I promise."

She eyed him warily. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's fucking true. Everyone likes it here."

"Really," she asked derisively. She drew herself up on her feet, scrunching her toes against the rug they landed upon and couldn't help the amused smirk that found its way to her face. Or the sudden giggle. It was just so plush and ridiculous to think that people still lived like this. This was now the second group she'd landed in that lived like they belonged on "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous". Except this one hadn't tried to turn her into a sex slave, so this one was clearly an upgrade. She peeked at Negan from under her eyelashes. He was watching her, equally amused and she stopped wiggling her toes.

She cleared her throat and went to sit across from him in one of the cushy armchairs and pulled at the hem of the white shirt she was wearing as she seated herself. It was long on her, but not long enough for her to cross her legs, so she settled for locking her knees together and clasping her hands around them. "Well, since it's a bit late for a tour, how about you tell me about it."

He tilted his head to the side. "Sort of a Negan's "How to"?"

She nodded. "You're the leader, who better to tell me how the system works."

"Are you trying to butter me up, Sweetheart," he asked, leaning halfway across the table. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure there are other ways to butter you up that would work much better. Last real group I was a part of was real vague on how to become a part of the team. I'm trying to keep that from happening again."

His grin faded the barest bit, but then returned immediately to full-force. "So you are staying?"

"If you'll have me."

"That a trick fucking question," he asked, laughing, "Oh, Darlin', you are just the thing for this place. I can feel it. Hell, if half the people around here acted like you, I'd either be up Shit Creek, or running the smoothest operation this side of the Appalachian. I mean, I probably am and I'm always looking to expand-"

"I'd think conquering is more your style."

He chuckled. "Hell, you're not wrong. People don't agree with my methods, but they fucking work. I make them work, I keep people alive. You'd think people would be grateful and want to get behind that, but there's always a few fuckers, who want to be absolute shits about it and try to ruin it for everyone."

There was a knock at the door and he called for them to enter. A girl with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes entered carrying a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a couple slices of bread. Julie's eyes widened. "Holy shit, you have bacon and eggs? And bread?"

Negan looked positively gleeful, his hazel eyes dancing as he watched the girl waffle between the two of them. The happiness drained from his face in an instant. "Well, are you going to fucking feed her or stand there? Give her her food and get the fuck out."

"Seriously, I want that." Julie was too hungry to think about manners or anything close to them. "I'm not above murdering you for that plate."

The girl's eyes widened as she nearly dropped the plate on the table, hands shaking as she took a step back. Julie barely even spared her a look as she dug into the food ravenously, briefly looking at Negan as she shoved a strip of bacon in her mouth. "Look, I'm not exactly a joy to deal with on most days, but if this is the pay off I get every day, I'll do whatever you want. I'm not above getting my hands dirty."

"Honey, I watched you bite a man's nose off," he reminded her, his face full of curiosity. She shrugged and scooped a mouthful of eggs into her mouth. Neither noticed that the blonde was still standing beside the table, eyes bouncing between both of them like a scared rabbit.

Julie shrugged and shoved her own wild mane of blonde hair over her shoulder. "Needed to be done. Eye for an eye, I guess."

"More like a nose for a fuckin' pussy if you ask me."

Julie scoffed out a laugh at the crudeness of his words and downed half the glass of water that had been set down with her meal. "It was gonna happen if you hadn't been there. Might as well disfigure someone while I'm going down." When only the sound of her fork scrapping the plate met her ears she looked up to see he was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She set her silverware down and met his gaze with her own. He looked far less friendly than he had a moment ago. His jaw was clenched so hard his teeth were in danger of shattering and his hands were balled into tight fists. Suddenly, he jerked his head to the side and pinned the scared blonde with a glower full of fire and brimstone. "I thought I told you to fucking leave?!"

The girl jumped and scurried to the door, fumbling with the knob while she let out a sob and yanked it open. It slammed shut behind her. He turned back to Julie and she watched as his hands slowly relaxed to settle in his lap before he moved one arm up and slung it over the back of the couch. "So, you've been through a lot then?"

"Before and after," she agreed and she felt very exposed in that moment. She thought over the past year and looked away, toward the window. She didn't like how attentive he was being, how interested he was in her; not if it meant she had to talk about how she'd been left for dead. How she'd lost everyone because she'd wanted to protect them. Because she was trying to help them and they threw it back in her face. She could see him regarding her out of the corner of her eye and refused to acknowledge him. How long would it be before he decided she was of no use to him? Like Daryl and Rick and everyone back at the prison had? How long before she was alone again?

"So, when shit hit the fan, where were you?"

"I was on my way to the next town I came across," she told him honestly, eyes still trained on the inky blackness of night. "I was on my own for awhile if that's what you're asking. I didn't really stick with any of the groups I came across. It was easy to tell which ones were going to make it and which ones weren't."

"How'd that work out for you?"

He didn't know. It wasn't his fault that she could hear them again. It was always the laughing. It always got her when she got too far in her own thoughts or when it got too quiet. Even Daryl could never quite make it go away for long. A dreamless sleep was the most she could ever hope for. But now, there was no strong back to rest her ear upon, no heartbeat to keep her grounded. The smell of earth and sweat and the sound of his harsh yet soft voice was now a very distant memory that she would do well to forget as soon as possible. It shouldn't be hard for her, considering she didn't really have anything to remember him by besides the sting of abandonment.

But that laughing was there, echoing through her head and trying to crack open her skull. She could smell the dirt and the leaves again.

"Julie?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned her head to look at him. Negan was watching her, his face was still an emotionless mask, but he didn't speak for quite awhile. She focused back on her food, plate almost empty as it was. Her eggs had gone cold, but that wouldn't stop her from eating them.

"When you're done, I'll show you where the bathroom is so you can get cleaned up," the gentleness of his voice caught her off-guard and she looked up at him with wide eyes, but he was staring at his baseball bat, Lucille, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "After that you can take the bed and I'll take the couch for the rest of the night."

* * *

She hadn't slept soundly, but it had been dreamless and for that, she was thankful. Negan opted to wait until she awoke on her own before he left the room for her to dress in private, waiting on the other of the door for her. She'd frowned at the clothing left for her to choose from. Nothing but dresses-and lacy short ones at that. Several of them were nearly backless and she cringed inwardly at the thought of ever wearing one of them. Thankfully, someone had had the presence of mind to leave her with a pair of ratty old jean shorts that had seen better days and she had to wonder if maybe someone was trying to remind her of her station in life. If they were, she wasn't bothered by it.

There were several pairs of strappy shoes and a single pair of dusty old black leather motorcycle boots. She'd bet money (if that were even possible anymore) on the fact that whoever had left the shorts had also left the boots, but she didn't even need to think twice before she threw both on. What gave her pause was the too small Hello Kitty shirt that had also been left for her. That had her scowling in annoyance. Clearly this shirt had come from the preteen section of whatever outlet mall it had been scavenged from and was meant as an insult. It would barely cover her stomach and while she had no problem showing off her legs, her midriff was another story. It would leave her lower back exposed as well and that would mean the bottom half of her scar would be on full display. Her cheeks burned with shame and she tugged at the end of the white shirt she was wearing unconsciously. It didn't quite smell like her yet. It smelled, clean, masculine. Safe. She would just wear that. And those lacy pushup bras weren't coming anywhere near her, either.

Satisfied with her attire, she thrust open the door and paused, blinking stupidly at all the scantily-clad women lounging on chaises. It had her on guard immediately, she let her eyes drift over them, ignoring their open stares as she curiously took in the room around her. It was painted a deep read, the upholstery was crushed velvet. There were even fresh cut flowers in most of the vases. Her wide eyes stopped on the bar nearby, where Negan was busy twirling Lucille in one hand while he drank from a tartan glass in the other. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"These are my wives, in case you were wondering," he informed her, clearly enjoying her surprise and confusion. She frowned as she took a head-count. There seemed to be five in all. Her lip curled in open disgust. "Please tell me I did not get rescued by some Mormon Cult leader."

The women all stared at her, equally wide-eyed. But Negan threw back his head laughed long and hard. "Jules, you are my favorite person in this whole fuckin' place because of that right there." He pointed his bat at her and she didn't miss the way every woman in the room flinched. Except her. There were worse ways to die, in her opinion.

He swaggered over to her, shoving his glass into one of the women's hands, and propped Lucille up on his shoulder. Julie noticed for the first time that her barbed wire was cleaned and the wood shone in the dim light, but she didn't comment on it as she looked up at the man who approached her and seemed to make it his personal mission to get as far into her personal space as he could without reproach. He loomed over her, a predator attempting to terrorize its prey and snaked an arm around her waist, but she kept her face free of expression.

"You should feel fuckin' special, Jules," he told her as he hugged her to his side. "Not everyone gets a fuckin' tour from me. I have other people do that shit for me."

"I'm honored," she sneered back, shooting him a challenging look when he finally took in what she was wearing. His brow furrowed. "Is that my shirt?"

"The one they left me was not an option, too small."

"Worried about your tits popping out, huh, Sweetheart?"

She didn't bother to answer as he guided her out of the room, eyes trailing after them.

The rest of "Sanctuary" as Negan called it, wasn't as well maintained as the parts of the factory he occupied and it was clear that being leader didn't come without massive perks. The pecking order was quite clear to make out and while she didn't really approve of his methods, he was the first leader of any group she'd encountered that had managed to create order and keep it. She didn't understand what logic there was in having everyone bow in his presence, but she doubted it would do her any good to question it. The "points" system he explained to her made sense and kept things fair as far as she could see and there didn't seem to be a lack of supplies in any way. He showed her where the commissary was, the kitchen, the makeshift cafeteria, the sleeping quarters on each floor along with bathrooms and even took her outside to the small vegetable garden that had been started up and expanded not too long ago.

He showed her the fence, where he kept a slue of Roamers chained and spike outside and pointed out the exit, where several trucks were parked. There were a lot of them. He watched her as she twirled around on the spot, eying a row of motorcycles. She looked up at him. "How often do you go on supply runs?"

"A few times a week," he answered honestly, watching her as she walked the line of bikes before looking up at the buildings surrounding them. "I have a few outposts that do their own supply runs and uphold the agreements we've made with a couple other communities nearby."

"Outposts," she repeated thoughtfully, and then shook her head as she grinned wryly. "Got yourself a pretty sweet set-up here, huh?"

He smiled at her. "You have no idea, Jules, no idea."

Julie pursed her lips and turned her eyes back to the bikes, arms crossed. "All right, you've been pretty open and honest, so let's talk business."

Something shifted in his demeanor and she could see how he withdrew into himself, ready to strike if necessary. "Let's talk business."

Her eyes shifted to the man standing not far off, watching them. He was very overweight, but he looked friendly enough. He was one of the "Saviors" the group of men and women who were part of the elite. They went on runs and did a lot of the dirty work that Negan required. She shifted her eyes back to Negan. "Everyone clearly has to pull their weight around here. That's the way it should be. I'm sure I'll be placed somewhere as soon as possible, right? I thought I might give you a run down of what I can do and can't do."

"That'd make the whole process easier," he agreed. She nodded. "I'm not the best shot in the world, but I'm decent. I'm better at up-close combat. I'm good on guard duty, I can hold my own in a fight, and I'm used to going on runs. I'm definitely not the best cook, I'm more prone to ruining a load of laundry than cleaning it, and I haven't ever tried my hand at gardening so there's no telling if I have a green-thumb or not. I may not know a lot, but I'm a quick learner, so I can handle whatever you want to throw at me."

"Are you saying you expect me to give you a gun-"

"No, not at all. That would be stupid and you're not stupid. I fully expect to be put somewhere else first. I'm fine with working my way up." She shrugged her shoulders up at him. "I'm not the most open person, but I do want you to understand that I appreciate everything you've done for me so far. I mean, even if you decided to kick me out and send me on my way unarmed, that's more than most would do." She dropped her eyes to his boots. She could feel her eyes begin to tear up and that was a weakness she didn't want to show. "You're not the first person to save my life by far, but I don't want you to think I'm not willing to show some gratitude for it. And you may think I'm not worth much or you may think I am, but I'm willing to work to show you that I am. From this point on, my loyalties lie with you."

Negan breathed out his nose and tipped her chin up with one gloved hand. "Oh, Sweetheart, you are worth way more than a few shitty cases of ammo."

Julie's heart thundered in response, as she watched his smoldering eyes run over her face repeatedly, as if committing it to memory. The electricity that had sizzled through the atmosphere the night before was back again. He moved his hand to cup her cheek and brought his thumb up to run over the single freckle she had that sat just below her left eye on the apple of her cheekbones. The contact was surprisingly soft and intimate and it should have been off-putting and it should have made her skin crawl to be touched with such familiarity. But it didn't. If anything, she felt a calming sense of acceptance.

"Fat Joseph," He hollered loudly, his voice booming, "We are going to the armory. Get your fat ass in gear and follow us."

Negan pulled his hand from her cheek and settled his arm across her shoulders. The leather of his jacket creaked as she was folded into his side and she could feel her face heat up as she wondered how often he did this with new residents and realized that the answer was probably "never".

Joseph followed along behind them and she let Negan dominate any attempts at conversation. There were a lot of people milling about and they just kept staring whenever he told them to stand up after kneeling whenever he passed. She didn't want that attention and she liked to imagine that Negan took note of her discomfort by the way he kept calling out people who blatantly stared at her by asking them why they weren't working like they should be. When he squeezed her shoulder as he did so, she knew then that that was exactly what he was doing and for the first time in months, things seemed to be looking up.

* * *

The armory had been something else. It was amazingly organized like the rest of Sanctuary. Every gun, every knife, every single bullet had been catalogued and was kept under heavy guard. But Negan strolled in with her under his arm, ordered to pick out anything she wanted and then began to bitch when she chose yet another machete with the excuse of "It's what I'm used to."

He'd tried to convince her to take a revolver she'd argued against it, telling him she wanted something with a small clip of ammunition because if she was in a tight enough spot to have to shoot, it was going to take more than six shots and he reluctantly agreed. She'd checked out with her proffered weapons and Negan had escorted her to the Cafeteria. He'd woken her up at the crack of dawn to complete the tour he'd promised to take her on and been very clear that he had things to do for the majority of the day.

He pushed her to the front of the line, where she was given another hearty helping of bacon, eggs, and toast instead of the greyish slop everyone else was consuming and Negan told her to go sit down at a table when he spot one of his men waving at him with a stern expression on his face. Negan's lip curled in annoyance and he grumbled to himself for a moment before patting her on the back and assuring her he would join her in a moment.

She watched the pair-she thought the other man's name was Steven-as they disappeared through a door way on the far side of the room and then she let her eyes sweep the place before she chose a table nearest to the door he'd gone through. It had been a few weeks since she'd been around such a large group of people and it was a massive sensory overload, but it was a nice change from the static buzz of silence. The people murmured quietly between themselves and she let her eyes drift over the different tables until she stopped at one not far away. Three of its occupants-one man and two women-were staring at her openly; the youngest woman, who had one of the worst bowl cuts she'd ever seen was glaring at her openly while the man and woman on her right side just watched her curiously. She didn't miss the way their eyes slid down to her plate of food several times. But the blonde, with the bad haircut was the one she took issues with and she scooped some eggs into her mouth and raised an eyebrow challengingly. She didn't know what the girl's problem was, but she was not going to be putting up with any bullshit from anyone.

The air around her shifted as someone settled on the bench beside her and the three pairs of eyes trained on her shifted to her right and they all looked...concerned. Instead of looking, she nibbled on a piece of bacon, trying hard not to let the smell of overwhelming body odor and sweat sour her stomach to only the second meal or actualy cooked food she'd had in a long time.

"You're new." It was meant to sound seductive. It was anything but and served to make her skin crawl, but she kept her features schooled and she ignored the way they leaned too far into her peripheral. He hadn't actually touched her yet. He reached across her plate and took the longest, fattest piece of bacon she had. Her shoulders tensed as she listened to him chomp on it like the fat slob he was. "Name's Davey, Sweetheart. You got a name?"

Her entire body stiffened in disgust and rage at the use of the very same pet name that Negan had been using on her and she pushed her plate and herself to the other side of the bench and as far away as possible, picking up her fork once again as she continued to focus on her food despite the now four pairs of eyes on her face. She went back to her food. All she needed to do was finish her food and wait for Negan to get back. Staying out of trouble was something she could do for him. He hadn't asked, but she didn't think he would appreciate her getting into an altercation the moment he left her alone.

But he would expect her to defend herself from unwanted advances, right? He'd saved her from being brutally gang-raped, given her clean clothes, delicious food, and the promise of a real home. He seemed like the kind of guy who would want her to take care of herself and wanted to take care of her even if he hadn't really said as much. But would she get in trouble for it? Was there a zero-tolerance policy? Things were different now. She didn't really know who he was, not really. She could only guess at what he would think of her.

The sweaty palm that landed on her inner thigh, index finger brushing against the crotch of her shorts snapped her out of her inner-conflict and settled it for her in one fell swoop. "I'm a big deal around here, baby. A real big deal." It took everything in her not to look at him as she kept her eyes trained on her food. Her fingers tightened around her fork when she felt his fingers begin to try to slip under the edge of her shorts. "Yeah, that's a good girl. Let Davey take care of you."

Without even flinching, she flipped the fork around in her own hand and brought it down hard on the offending appendage, stabbing the metal eating utensil into the back of his hand with enough force that she felt the tips of the metal prongs graze her skin.

"Davey" let out a roar of pain as he reeled back from her and the everyone in the cafeteria went silent and turned to watch Davey as her turned in all directions, frantic and screaming. Several pairs of footsteps stomped toward him and still, she didn't look up from her food. She shoved another slice of bacon into her mouth and sipped on her milk. They had actual _milk_. She'd stab a million Daveys if it meant she'd get more milk.

"That bitch stabbed me with a fucking fork."

Julie licked her upper lip to rid herself of her milk moustache and continued to eat as if she were completely oblivious to the chaos surrounding her. She didn't even look up when Negan and Steven stormed back in and over to where Davey was hunched against a wall, screaming and yelling like an enraged bulldog.

"What the fuck?!"

"She stabbed me with a fork!"

There was a loud squelching sound and another howl of pain and Julie felt herself smile a little bit. A gloved hand came down forcefully on her shoulder and she was wrenched around to stare up into the infuriated face of Negan, his eyes flashing dangerously as he snarled at her like a feral animal. "Why the fuck would you fucking think you could do that to one of my fucking men?!"

Julie frowned for only a moment, her eyes flitting over to Davey who was staring at her hatefully, though he still somehow managed to look pleased with her predicament. Julie moved her eyes back up to the man standing over her. "He touched me in a way I didn't like."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Didn't think I had to tell him anything when I moved away the first time he tried to come onto me."

"Really," he asked, his expression becoming even darker by the second. "Where did he fucking touch you?"

"A place I don't let anyone touch unless they buy me dinner first," she replied, tilting her head to the side, letting her eyes run the length of his face. The change in his demeanor her words incited was terrifying, even to her. If the world hadn't ended already she was sure he would have attempted to do so right then and there.

"Sir, she's fucking lying!"

"Davey, you dumb fucking sack of shit, _shut your fucking mouth_ ," Negan bellowed, turning his back on Julie to face the man still clutching his injured hand. Davey jumped and all the color drained from his face. "No means no and as many times as you've had that word thrown at your ugly-as-fuck face, I'd think you'd got that by now! You should be the foremost fucking expert on when a woman doesn't want to fuck you! I should iron your entire fucking face off for this shit and then bash your fucking head in, but I don't think Lucille wants to touch your creepy fucking ass anymore than any other person in fucking Sanctuary, you fucking stupid fucking fuck!"

He pointed at one of the people surrounding Davey. "Get him to Dr. Carson." And then he pointed at Julie. "And stay the fuck away from her or I will fucking stick your ass on the fence!"

He turned back toward her and Julie had the good sense to lower her eyes to the floor. He was still angry and it was clear he was the kind of man that wasn't above taking it out on those around him. "I shouldn't have stabbed him with a fork. I'm sorry." An apology was far from what anyone deserved in this situation, but she was new and she didn't want to jeopardize her well-being anymore than she already had. And she really didn't want Negan deciding she was more trouble than she was worth.

"Next time, aim for his fucking dick."

Julie felt herself smile as she turned back to face her food, allowing Negan to shove her over so that he could sit down next to her on the bench. She didn't say anything as he stole the remainder of her bacon, jaw working to chew furiously as his anger began to recede at an agonizingly slow pace. Clearly, he was unstable, as unstable as her or even more so. But months of being around an emotional hothead like Daryl had afforded her the ability to know when it was best to let sleeping dogs lie and this was one of those situations. She picked at her eggs with her fingers, and tried not to blush when Negan asked with an over-confident grin. "I got you breakfast. Does that count as buying you dinner?"

"Nice try."

* * *

 **Thoughts? I would appreciate all the feedback you can give me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, this chapter was not as easy as the first. And I'm sorry about the poll not being up. I completely spaced after I put the first chapter up and that was totally my fault. I really appreciate the response this got. I really didn't expect even half the reviews and follows it got. I'm really glad you guys are liking it so far. I'm trying really hard to stay true to the characters from TWD, but also make lesser characters, who didn't get much screen-time, seem believable in their portrayal here.**

 **Anyway, I hope you read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

2\. Cracks

* * *

Julie followed along sedately behind Negan and Simon. His name was Simon and not Steven. He hadn't looked too happy with her when she'd called him such, but Negan had just about died of oxygen deprivation as he laughed loudly while Simon watched them both with a sour look. Julie had shrugged apologetically, but she didn't quite understand why he was that put out with her innocent mistake. They hadn't been properly introduced and "Steven" was almost "Simon".

So, feeling only a little put out by Simon's standoffish attitude, she followed behind the pair as they stalked through the old factory, people parting and dropping to one knee like the parting of the Red Sea. Their heads were bowed and many of the people closest to the trio leaned as far away as possible. The fear was clearly evident on their faces and it set off alarm bells in her head. Negan was dangerous. Far more dangerous than she had first assumed, but it was too late to cut and run now.

Where would she run anyway? She wanted to be done running for a while. Getting from the prison to Sanctuary had taken it out of her. Her soul was tired and her mind was nearly fractured. She needed the rest. Julie rolled her neck, letting her head fall to the left as she gazed up at Negan's tall, leather-clad back. It helped that he was noticeably easy on the eyes. That made him less scary. He glanced at her over his shoulder and tossed her a care-free wink as Simon continued to complain about whatever it was that had gotten him so worked up in the first place.

Julie followed them up the stairs, watched his gloved hand as it glided up the yellow railing smoothly and she finally let her eyes trail over him as she took stock of his mannerisms for what felt like the millionth time. Negan's entire being seemed fluid to her, wild and untamable as the ocean. Calm and collected, his smile the warmth of the beating sun belied the strength and anger lying within. In less time than it took for her to blink, she'd seen the storm rage to life in him, face a hurricane of fury with eyes that flashed like lightning, a voice that boomed with thunder, and a body capable of crashing against any and all in its wake and leaving no survivors.

There was a different kind of spark in his eye. It wasn't sadness or guilt or shame or anything she'd ever seen in anyone else since the turn. It was dark and foreboding to the people around them. But it meant something different to her and she wasn't sure if she understood what that was yet, but she knew it made her feel less frail, less worn.

Julie squinted into the bright light of day as the three of them left the factory's main building and headed towards one of the outbuildings. There was the faint thumping of Notorius B.I.G.'s "Big Poppa" somewhere in the depths of the aluminum building that smelled strongly of motor oil and battery acid. Several Saviors were busy checking over trucks, smiling and joking with one another and the mood was much lighter than she remembered.

"Oh, who the fuck gave him a fucking stereo," Negan whined, "The fucking noise is going to attract every single fucking dead fuck in the area."

Simon gave a wry smile to his boss. "Arat brought it back for him. You know she has a soft spot for that kid. Besides, the kid deserves some reward for keeping the vehicles running as smoothly as they have been."

"You're not fucking wrong," Negan agreed, letting out a sigh as they stopped behind one of the open trucks and Negan and Simon began going over the supply list for the third and final time. Julie stood a little ways away, watching the men as they stepped up their paces with both their boss and his second-in-command standing nearby. The sun was warm against her skin and it felt good after being trapped inside the stale atmosphere of the factory. She let her eyes wander toward the fence, covertly bobbing her head to the thumping bass of the music leaking out of the building when the door to the factory wheezed open on rusty hinges and drew her attention to it.

It was the blonde with the terrible bowl cut. Julie narrowed her eyes and studied her with a critical eye now that she was so close. The girl was soft in every sense of the word and Julie scowled. It was clear this girl didn't have a hard job, but her clothes were shabby enough that it was also clear she wasn't that high up on the Sanctuary food chain. But she sure acted like she was. Head held high as she practically sashayed past Julie, who she ignored completely, she headed straight for the building the music was emanating from and Julie's scowl deepened.

The blonde rubbed her wrong in every single way possible. It was apparent she had some sort of superiority complex and Julie couldn't figure out what the hell it was that made her think she was so damn special. Had she been famous at some point in time? Julie wracked her mind trying to remember, but drew a complete blank. That couldn't have been it. She cut her eyes toward Simon and Negan, who had also paused to watch the girl walk past them. Julie stepped around the pair to continue scowling at the girl's back for a moment before she went back to staring off into space and watching men in ratty sweats and sweatshirts wrangle the undead onto the fence outside.

She wrinkled her nose as she watched them chain one down while guards nearby heckled them. It seemed like a thankless job and it seemed like those men were being punished for something. Whatever they'd done-or hadn't done-she hoped it was worth it to them. They'd either done something incredibly stupid, incredibly brave, or both.

Someone whistled behind her, loud and sharp, and she jumped around to find Negan watching her with twinkling eyes, his voice devoid of emotion. "Careful, Sweetheart. Don't get too close."

Julie opened her mouth to tell him she was just keeping herself occupied when she noticed the blonde standing in the opening of the building. The door to the makeshift garage was open and whoever it was she was talking to had their back to Julie, but it didn't take a genius to tell the girl was clearly interested in him. He was wearing an oil-stained mechanic's outfit, wiping grease off of his hands with a nearly blackened rag while he subtly tried to lean away from the girl who was standing a little too close for comfort. Julie wondered briefly if it was the terrible haircut that was such a turn off or if her personality was equally as off-putting.

Her companion turned his head to the side, gesturing toward the truck with a self-deprecating smile and Julie felt like all the air was being sucked out of her chest. Her skin tingled to hyper-awareness and her heart hammered until she thought it would explode. Her voice was suddenly strangled and hoarse as she called his name.

She took off at a dead run, heading straight for him the moment he turned to look at her. His eyes were wide and hopeful. "Jules?"

The impact of her body meeting his threw them back against the grill of the Jeep behind him. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive," she chanted over and over again in a half-crazed voice.

"This is really uncomfortable, Jules," he grunted, "and your hair is getting in my mouth."

She reeled back and pulled him up with her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He blinked at her for a moment and then said, "Gettysburg is in Pennsylvania."

Julie's hands fell from Zach's shoulders and she stepped back. "But I could swear it was in Virginia. Did they move it?"

Zach looked at her as if she were crazy. "No, Jules, they did not move it. You can't move a historical landmark!"

"They do it with landmarks like cemeteries-"

"The land itself is historic!"

"I know that!"

"I can't believe you're here."

Her annoyed expression faded into familial affection and she grinned at him. "I can't believe _you're_ here. How'd you-"

Someone cleared their throat and the two broke apart to look over at the interloper. It was the blonde with the terrible haircut. Julie's grin faded and she raised an eyebrow. Zach shifted on his feet awkwardly and coughed. "Oh, yeah. Julie this is Tina. Tina, this is my sister, Julie."

Julie beamed at him the moment he referred to her as his sister and tugged on his jumpsuit as she put an arm over his shoulders. "Pleasure," she managed to say without sounding too smug. She watched as Tina pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Not much of a family resemblance."

Zach stiffened beside her, his face flushing, but Julie hardly batted an eye as she pointed upward. "Not much of a haircut."

Someone snickered nearby and Zach elbowed her. "Julie," he hissed and she rolled her eyes. "What? She's been giving me the stink eye since I got here. I'm sick of it."

"Don't be a bitch," he managed to whine and she bristled, but turned to look at the girl. "I'm sorry. It's very nice to meet you even though I think your haircut sucks."

The three stood in tense silence for a moment before Tina turned on her heel and marched off. Zach covered his face with his hand and groaned. "Are you serious right now?"

Julie frowned at him, looking confused. "What's the problem? You don't like her. Even I could see that all the way from over there."

"Yeah, but we have to live with her," he explained as if that made any difference to her. Julie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "And? There's how many people living here? It's not that hard to avoid someone you don't like. Anytime you see her, just ignore her or turn around and walk away. Unless you wanted to sleep with her. Did you want to sleep with her? Cause I can totally back off and let you-"

"Oh my God, is this how bad it was for you whenever I started butting into your love life?"

Julie grinned widely again and squeezed his arm. "Oh, I'm so happy we're together again."

The sound of boots stalking toward them had them turning to see several of the Saviors near them dropping to their knees. Zach dropped as well when he saw who was approaching him and Julie frowned down at him. "Suck up."

Zach punched her in the back of the knee, but didn't look up and she swatted him in the back of the head. Negan had that look on his face, the one that felt oppressive and dark and full of violent promise. He tapped Lucille upon his shoulder violently, eyes cold and face as hard as stone. He looked ready to snap. "Have a good reunion?"

Julie deliberately misunderstood him as she ruffled Zach's hair, her grin becoming even more mischievous when he smacked her hand away violently. "Of course. I thought he was dead for weeks. You have no idea how relieved I am to know he's been here the whole time."

"Oh, I bet." His voice was getting deeper and louder.

"Yeah, Zach's my best friend," she agreed, "He's the only person I've ever really counted as family, you know. He's the best brother ever."

"I hate you," Zach mumbled pitifully from his place on the floor. She nudged his foot with her own. "No, you don't. You fucking love me. I saved you from Tina, now be grateful."

"I'm going to shave your head in your sleep," he replied firmly and she cuffed him again. He punched her thigh hard, making sure to grind his knuckles into her sensitive skin so that it would bruise.

" _This_ is your sister," Negan asked incredulously, pointing his bat at Julie and she smirked when Zach looked up, eyes darting between the blonde and his leader. "Yes?"

"Holy fuck, kid, why didn't you tell me she was so awesome," he asked indignantly, pouting like an overgrown child. "Seriously, speak the fuck up next time. If you have anymore awesome relatives out there, let me know."

"I'm pretty sure she's the only one."

Negan gestured for him to stand by waving his bat up and down, a mildly disgusted look on his face. "Why are you still fucking down there? I feel like you're waiting for me to let you suck my dick or something. Get up before this gets any more uncomfortable."

"I don't want to suck anyone's dick," Zach whined, looking embarrassed. Julie patted his shoulder consolingly. "He knows that, you idiot."

Zach brightened considerably and his next words caused the smile to slide right off her face. "Where's Gretchen at?"

The copper tang of blood filled her nose as she remembered the way the crimson liquid had crept across the concrete quickly. How the anger in Gretchen's eyes had still been present but was vacant in a way that was so eerie it caused Julie's body to break out in an uncontrollable shiver. She could still hear the blood as it dripped onto the floor from the weapon that had been used to cut her head off.

"She's not here," she managed, her voice husky with emotion. Zach's warm eyes grew cold, stormy, pained and he pulled her into another crushing hug. Julie wished she could cry then. Her throat felt raw and swollen, as if she'd already been sobbing in grief for hours, but her eyes remained dry and glassy. "I watched them cut her head off."

Even with the deafening buzz of cicadas drowning out the majority of the chatter surrounding the trucks and the music blaring harshly from the stereo, her words cut through the smothering heat of summer and silenced the small circle surrounding her. Zach pulled back slowly, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders as he took in the blank yet distant expression on her face. But all she could see was one of the soldiers kicking Gretchen's lifeless corpse in the thigh as they complained about having lost another sale. The blood was still spreading like spilled paint, creeping closer and closer to her.

"She wouldn't stop fighting so they cut her head off." It came out as a whisper, but they all heard it.

"Jules..." Zach didn't know what to say and he wiped at the back of his neck, glancing at Negan and Simon surreptitiously as he tried to figure out a good way to phrase his next question. He tugged a lock of her hair. "You been getting any sleep?"

She leaned away from him and shrugged. "It's okay. I'm...I'm okay."

"If you don't have a room assignment yet, you can stay with me," he offered, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, "We can stay up and play cards for a while."

That brought a small smile to her face. "You told me you wouldn't play cards with me again."

"I'm feeling generous," he replied with a shrug, hand still clasping her forearm. His grin was only a little bit forced now and Julie took a moment to really look at him. The journey from the prison to Sanctuary, along with her words, had really aged him. He wasn't as carefree as she remembered. It broke her just a little bit more.

She opened her mouth to respond and then turned to look at Negan, jerking her thumb in his direction. "It's his call."

Negan blinked in surprise for a fraction of a second before the somber expression on his face was replaced by one much lighter and full of humor. But it didn't quite reach his eyes. It never did, she noticed. He tapped Lucille on his shoulder playfully, as if thinking. "Yeah, or you could always bunk with me again."

Julie was surprised by the offer and immediately wary. She pursed her lips and turned the idea over in her head. She didn't want to upset him by refusing his offer, but she didn't really want to spend anymore time alone with him just then. He'd gotten her to drop her guard far too much and that was dangerous. And he was a dangerous man. Plus, Zach had a grimace on his face that clearly stated what his opinion on that was.

"Can I spend the day with Zach, out here?"

Zach rolled his eyes at her, but didn't comment and Julie didn't know how to feel at that point. She knew what he was thinking about. She was thinking about it, too. She was latching onto someone the same way she had with Daryl. But she didn't want it to be that way. She didn't want to be that way. She wanted to be able to sleep alone at night. She wanted to be able to dream of the same things everyone else dreamt of. Even if it was just trying to run away from Walkers, it would be a far better dream than the ones she'd been having.

Negan threw his arm over her shoulder and she almost stumbled under the unexpected weight. He was grinning cheekily at Zach. "Well, sure you can, Sweetheart. Maybe you can talk him into turning that shit down so we don't get a herd coming down on our fucking heads."

Zach stepped over to the stereo that was sitting on top of a large, rolling toolbox and turned the music down until it was nothing more than a light thrum. She flinched imperceptibly when she felt one of his fingers slide up the edge of the scar on her arm. It had been nothing more than a caress, but she couldn't stop the way her body stiffened in response or the shame that burned through her body like an unrelenting fever. His fingers jerked away from her skin, but he didn't remove his arm and Julie felt herself become embarrassed that her reaction had been so obvious.

But Zach picked up a wrench, eyes glued to the pair as he took in every detail and he looked much more thoughtful than she expected in that moment. "Have you been to commissary to get any supplies yet?"

All she could manage was a shake of her head. Zach flipped the hood on the Jeep and stuck his head in over the engine, finally moving his eyes away from her. "You should do that first. That way, you'll be settled."

"That, is a fantastic fucking idea, kid," Negan agreed. Zach didn't bother to hide his look of distrust and Julie could see that Negan clearly enjoyed that he was ruffling Zach's proverbial feathers and the young man could do nothing about it. His eyes flicked back to her and his shoulders slumped. Julie knew Negan wasn't familiar with all her tells yet (she didn't have many), but Zach knew them better than anyone ever had and he could see what she wanted even before she even knew what that was. Whatever he saw then, it had him biting his tongue and keeping his protective streak in check. But she figured if she ever got her hands on some smokes to share with him, there would be hell to pay.

"Make sure you get some sleep for once," Zach told her, his eyes piercing and full of concern, "You look like shit."

* * *

Julie sat at the corner of the bed, sheet pulled over her legs as she rested her head on her knees and watched the steady rise and fall of Negan's chest from his place on the couch. She'd never seen someone sleep so peacefully before. He'd lain down after getting ready for bed, blanket thrown haphazardly over his body and he was simply gone.

She sighed morosely and fell to her side, bringing her fingers up to her lips to nibble at her nails. Moonlight was pouring into the room, chasing away the visible shadows that darkened the room, but it could never drive away the shadows that lurked within her mind. Negan shifted on the couch and grunted in his sleep, turning from facing the back of the couch, to facing her, moonlight casting a monochromatic pallor over his stubbled chin. The shadowing under his eyes made his eyelashes appear longer than they were and Julie felt herself hiss out a sigh at the sight and the heat it caused to grow in her stomach, it was a pleasant feeling tinged in nausea, and she turned away from him to gain her bearings.

The burning in her stomach was snuffed out as she watched the wind blow leaves across the forest floor, heard the boots crunch against dirt and twigs, felt hands both cold and warm as they held her down and the fear consumed her. There was no one here to save her this time. Gretchen's body lay at the foot of a nearby sapling, lifeless eyes staring at her along with the jeering men that restrained her.

This wasn't real. It felt real, but it wasn't. Was it? Why could she always feel their hands as they ran over her body in harsh caresses that scraped and scratched and rubbed her painfully raw? Why could she smell them? Each distinct trace of sweat, blood, dirt, each man so distinctly different from the other just like the timbers of their horrible, cruel voices. The agony of her back was rivaled only by the sticky sensation created by the blood seeping from her wound and she was so overcome by all these overwhelming sensations, she could only cry-sob. Eventually, she would beg to be let go. She always begged. It always made them laugh harder and it always made her cry harder.

Daryl was there again, slapping her so hard her head spun as he screamed for her to shut up and stop crying. When he started choking her, still screaming for her to shut up and take it, she clawed at his hands like a desperate animal clawing at a snare. Her throat burned as her crying morphed into screams and she raked her fingers down her own flesh trying to rip his hands away from her windpipe.

A hand slapped down on her thigh, squeezing brutally as nails bit into her skin and she tossed her head to the side. It was Gretchen, her head hanging onto her neck by a ragged strip of flesh, eyes burning with disgust and rage, her skin greyish and cold. "You brought this on yourself, you weak, cowardly bitch. You brought your pathetic existence down on me, on Zach. I'm dead because everyone knew how worthless you are." Her mouth twisted into a smile and she looked toward Daryl, who still had one hand around Julie's throat and the other one gripping her by her scalp painfully as he held her suspended halfway off the ground. "He knew how worthless you are. Why do you think he left you there?"

Julie continued to clutch at the hand around her throat while she used the other one to try and pushed Daryl away, kicking wildly at Gretchen as the dead woman tried to climb her way up her body. "Please, don't do this," she managed to choke out. "Please. I can't-"

"He's going to rip you to shreds just like the rest of them," Gretchen laughed, yanking at the waistband of her shorts where it sat on her hips. "Don't you think you made him wait long enough? You fucking tease! You should be grateful he still wants to touch you."

"I don't-please, don't." The tears leaking from her eyes burned as she looked away from Gretchen and up to Daryl, begging as best she could even as the men started shaking her like a ragdoll. "Please don't do this to me, please! Please, not again. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. Please, don't. Kill me if you want, but don't do this!"

She stretched one hand out toward him, gripping his jaw, nails digging into the scruff she found there. His expression remain stoic and cold and thunder cracked the sky in a rhythmic beat as the sky and the forest began to spin as if they'd been thrown into a blender. Daryl was pulling her closer and closer to him, his grip on her neck a vice and she continued to gasp as she looked up on him.

"Please," she pleaded one more time, body limp, voice nothing more than a broken rasp, "please."

He slammed her body into his and she dropped her hands from her neck to push at his chest, babbling incoherently, begging for him to let her go, kill her, do anything but that. His hands slid to her hair, fisting it at the scalp as he crushed her cheek against his pectorals and the strong smell of aftershave, dust, and soap. She could feel his heart pulse against her face, beating so erratically it sounded as though he were in the middle of a massive coronary and it did little to calm her. But that smell was strange. Daryl had never smelled like that. It was strong and overpowering.

"I can't," she managed to hiccup again, moving her head a fraction against him as she tried to shake away. He wasn't strangling her anymore, but cradling her body against his broad chest, hand running the length of her arm over and over before it buried itself back in her hair and pressed her closer. Her breathing never slowed, but sped up and everything spun out and became black and she could feel her body begin to go limp, but maybe it was better that way.

The sun woke her hours later and she turned her body away from the open curtain, fisting her hands in the sheets as she did so and clenched her eyes shut. They burned they were so dry and grainy and she rubbed at them, whimpering as she remembered the hell her mind had trapped her in again. Her nails dug into her temple as she tried to claw the pain from her head, make her body hurt worse than her soul.

She startled when someone gently pried her hand from her face and she blinked up at them. Negan was sitting in a chair pulled up by the side of the bed, his eyes as worn and tired as hers felt, but there was no judgment and no pity. There wasn't much of anything, really, but the look was softer than she expected from a man like him and it amazed her that her eyes were still able to begin to water. Julie bit her lip and tried to turn away from him, inadvertently pressing her face into the palm of his hand. His thumb stretched out to run across her lower lip, but he still refrained from speaking and Julie was thankful because she had no idea how she would have responded properly. Especially, considering all she wanted was to crawl off the bed and into his arms. That alone made her feel guilty and dirty. Her dream should have been a reminder of why being touched by another person was disgusting.

Instead, she pushed her face further into his hand, ignoring the knot of guilt that tightened in her gut and let him brush away the trail of tears that fell from her eyes.

"Move over for me, Sweetheart." His voice was rough like a summer storm and the gravel of it caught in his throat once or twice, but Julie did as he asked, scooting back on the mattress, eyes pinched shut to keep from looking at him, but it only served to remind her of what the night had brought her and her eyes snapped open willingly as he propped Lucille up against the side of the bed and then sat on the edge, swinging his body up and over to face her.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," she whispered into the stillness between them.

"Everybody has...things," he replied eventually, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were trained on the sheets between them and there was a weight to his words that Julie understood fully. He lifted his eyes to hers and something passed between them, a silent understanding and the weight that had been dropped on them seemed to lessen.

But it didn't stop her from reaching up to claw at her temple again and he was quick to clasp his hand around her own and pull it away. His face was carefully blank, which in itself was a relief, even if she knew it meant the first chance he got, he would be dropping her in the middle of nowhere.

"I can't. Don't make me." There was no appeal to his sense of decency because she knew he didn't have one. He wasn't simply a rough man; he was something far worse. But she would make demands of him and he would honor them.

"I know." He pulled his hand from her face and dropped it to rest against the mattress. "I'll tell you when you tell me."

Julie pursed her lips and let her eyes roam over the contours of his body, taking in the hard lines with a growing sense of fascination. But it didn't last long, whatever spell of complacent understanding they were under. Negan sat up abruptly and was out the door before she could even blink. She barely registered his curt tone when he snapped for her to "get her lazy ass out of bed."

She sat up slowly. There was another pile of clothes for her sitting on the couch. He heart dropped to her feet when she noticed the distinct lack of shorts or simple tee-shirt. Luckily, her boots were still tucked under the bed and she grabbed them before stepping over to the couch to pick through the small pile. It was nothing but lacy dresses, almost all of them with a plunging neckline and no back. And some of them she wasn't even sure would cover her ass properly. But that wasn't what concerned her. What concerned her was the fact that none of them had backs. She could have worn them, paraded around in one just to prove to whomever it was that she really didn't give a shit about them trying to bring her down a few notches-for what she didn't even know-but this made her feel nothing but shame. They didn't know. How could they? Yet, it was enough to bring tears to her eyes and harsh, goading laughter to her ears. She clenched her fists, eyes snapping shut and shook her head once. "Stop it," she hissed between gritted teeth. "Shut up."

But it only got louder and her blood began to boil. She reached down and grabbed the dress closest to her. Black, clingy satin. It was a gorgeous number. She hated it. She rent the fabric like a wild animal, reveling in the sound of the tearing clothing. Once it was a destroyed heap, she dropped it to the floor and backed away. She started to rummage through the only chest of drawers in the room, giving her head a firm shake every now and again whenever her blood began to thrum.

The bottom drawer was filled with plain black shirts. Perfect. Whoever that bitch was that wanted her weak and humiliated wanted her to ear black. She'd wear some fucking black. She yanked the white shirt off of her body and yanked the black one on. She tossed the shirt on top of the pile of dresses and then went to grab her weapons. However, they weren't on the nightstand where she'd left them and were suspiciously absent from the room.

With a harsh glare at the barren wooden surface, she slumped down on the bed and began pulling her boots on. It was possible Negan had taken them from her because of the night terror she'd endured. It really wasn't wise for him to leave weapons so close to her when she got like that. She could have killed him, killed herself. She dropped her foot to the rug with a dull thud and ran shaking hand through her tangled blonde hair. Maybe she should kill herself. The laughing would stop. The dreams. The loneliness. The pain. It'd all be gone.

There was another long cackle in her ear and she yanked at her hair painfully. "Fuck you," she hissed and shot to her feet, yanking open the door. Just like the day before, it was filled with nearly naked women, who wore too much make up and not enough clothes. She outright scowled at the sight and didn't bother to look away when a couple of the women looked at her, their expressions both curious and cautious. There was one or two women who didn't seem at all interested in what she was doing there and that bothered her. That meant that they either knew something she didn't or they were more bothered than they let on. She eyed them both up and down. They were both flipping through some magazine, talking in soft voices. They were pretty, pampered, all the things she had never been. How the hell were they still alive?

"There she fucking is!" His voice, singing through the air like a cannonball, pulled her attention over to the bar where he had been drinking and flirting with the only other woman who hadn't been eying her only because Negan had had her attention. The girl-it was the blonde from the day before-pouted for only a moment and then trudged over to the chaise lounge and settled down with her arms crossed. Julie frowned back. She looked younger than she remembered and it bothered her how much the girl reminded her of Beth. They could have been sisters.

Negan stepped to the side, revealing her machete and gun sitting on the bar top and he patted them both with an eyebrow wiggle thrown in for emphasis. Julie didn't respond to the playful gesture as she slipped over to him and picked up both the gun and the machete. Negan licked his lips as he looked her over, eyes lingering on her thighs longer than they should have. She was too busy checking her gun over to notice. "You're wearing one of my shirts again," he said, and again, it sounded like a sinister lullaby the way he managed to nearly draw out each syllable like a song made of gravel and sin.

"Whoever keeps bringing me clothes, keeps bringing me dresses. I'm not a dress kind of girl."

"You're a Daisy Duke kind of girl," he agreed, leaning away from her and sliding his eyes back down her legs deliberately. When he looked back at her again, he grinned widely, all toothy and predatory. "And who could fucking blame you." She managed to glare, but the effect was fairly dampened by the deep flush that spread over her face and neck at the openly brazen way the man before her had complimented her and run his eyes over her body. Julie leaned away from him, flinching only a bit when he cupped a hand around her shoulder as he dragged her into a side-hug and guided her out of the room. He squeezed her further into his side. "You know, most women-well, the other fucking women around here-they're fucking grateful when I throw them a bone." He let out a roar of laughter. "Even more grateful when I fucking bone them, too. But you, you'd think I fucking murdered your Goddamn puppy and tried to fucking feed it to you. I get that you're all fucking against being hit on and shit. Fuck, if Davey'd tried to stick his sausage fingers down my pants, I'd be off sex for at least a month, so I fucking get you." He paused in his long strides and tilted his head down to look at her. "But I'm not gonna fucking keep from giving you a fucking compliment when you deserve it."

She could feel the blush dust her cheeks again and managed to mumble out an "Okay." He hugged her a little closer and then grinned again. "So, I've decided to be nice to you. Well, even nicer than I have been. Like, "get down on your knees and suck my dick because this is my Christmas present to you" nice. But I'm not gonna ask you to suck my dick. I'm gonna make Amber do that later."

"Is there a point," she asked tersely. It bothered her that he could talk so openly about having one of those women doing that to him. He wasn't the first man she'd ever met who would brag about his sexual exploits, but he was definitely the first one to do so at her and expect her to be amused or impressed. She was neither, and she was in fact not only unimpressed but also angry. She just wasn't sure what she was angry about. Negan looked all too pleased with himself just then, and she swore, for a moment, he was mentally high-fiving himself like some high school boy. He was all but preening as he spoke again. "I've decided to have you work in the garage with Zach. Cause I'm fucking fair and just and all that shit." He held his arms out to either side of himself, grin broadening at her exasperated expression. "Hail to the fucking King, Sweetheart."

"That is very nice of you. Thank you, I think I could be good with the cars," she relented. The last thing she wanted was to stroke Negan's ego so thoroughly, but he seemed like he really wanted her to, just then. Overly eager for her undivided attention and appreciation. But she wasn't so sure how long that would last. He didn't necessarily require appreciation from her. Mostly just attention.

"No, fucking say it, you gotta say it," he snapped, all traces of playfulness gone and he shoved her in the shoulder with Lucille, hard. Julie scowled right back. "Hail."

He shoved her again with less force, smile stretched wide across his face once again. "There it is! Look at you, getting the hang of this Follow-the-leader-Negan-fucking-says way of life." Julie wasn't fooled. He was always a hair's breadth away from cracking someone's head wide open, but so far, he hadn't quite figured out how to scare her into compliance and so, she wasn't an actual target yet. Especially since she was so compliant without having any clear reason to be other than the one that should have been very obvious to him. He was her leader, the man who gave her yet another chance at life. She would follow him without question. If it meant she had to stroke his ego, she would.

He left her in the garage, giving a firm shove to her back as he wandered back into Sanctuary, off to do God knew what and Julie scowled at his back well until after he'd disappeared. She and Zach worked in companionable silence until lunch. They stopped in the cafeteria, where they were given two very miserable looking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They shared a look as they both ate their food as they walked back toward the garages when Julie finally asked, "You got any cigarettes? I could use one."

"Yeah, c'mon, we got time." Julie followed up a series of stairwells and down a series of maze-like hallways with rooms guarded by several of the men Negan had that were directly under his command. They all eyeballed the pair, but only nodded in greeting as they passed. Finally, Zach pushed threw a door and they were both blinded by the sun as they stepped outside.

"It's always so fucking dark in that damn building," Zach muttered as he shoved a cigarette in his mouth and handed her one, flipping open his Zippo to light them. Julie smiled her thanks and they both settled down the concrete walkway, dangling their legs over the side. Cigarette hanging from her lips, Julie unzipped her mechanic's suit that had been given to her and pulled the top half off, letting it pool around her waist. She was thankful for the uniform as it kept the grease and grime from getting on her clothes, but it was a little too big on her and the sleeves tended to fall down over her hands while she worked. Zach nudged her arm and nodded his head down to the lower deck of the outside stairwell. It was the man and the dark haired woman from the cafeteria. They were both smoking and the woman looked up and made eye contact with her for a moment before going back to her conversation.

"Guess they had the same idea," she said finally, setting her eyes forward and out over the parking lot and toward the undead that were chained to the fence and driven through with spikes. "Sounds like the prison yard out here."

"Maybe that's why I like coming out here," he wondered aloud, looking out at the gruesome sight with little interest, "reminds me of guard duty in the tower."

Julie crossed her arms over the guard rail and leaned forward, her vision clouded with the open grassy field of the prison yard, Hershel and Rick working the small garden they'd set up and she wondered briefly if any of them had made it, had gone back and rebuilt-if there was anything left to rebuild.

"Jesus," Zach exclaimed next to her and she turned to find him reaching toward her neck. She winced when he pressed the tip of his finger against her abused flesh, the scratch stinging. She shrugged his hand off and leaned away from him. Zach gave her a searching look. "What'd he do?"

She frowned at the question and turned her eyes away, dropping them to watch the couple below them. They were still smoking, leaning over the railing. "He didn't do anything. I did that."

"Nightmare," he asked softly and she nodded once. She heard him exhale beside her and watched the smoke gust out into the air. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged again. "Thought I was being choked to death, you figure it out."

"Shit, Jules, you gotta start talking about this shit before it eats you alive," Zach chastised her and she just knew he was shaking his head at her. It set her teeth on edge. "I got it handled."

"Bullshit, it's driving you insane," Zach argued, "You can't keep going like this. You have to talk about it with...someone. Anyone."

"And tell them _what_ ," asked meanly. Zach turned toward her his expression exasperated as he glared right back at her. " _Tell them the truth!_ Tell them what happened to you!"

"And have them look at me the same way everyone used to back at-"

"You don't know they will-"

"They _will_ ," she insisted, "they'll look at me like I'm messed up and broken."

"Because you are," Zach snapped, "you won't deal with it. That's gonna make it worse, not better."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm not ready."

"It's going to burn you up inside and then nobody will be able to help you."

"Maybe I don't want to be helped," she grumbled petulantly, puffing on her cigarette. Zach scoffed and shook his head, rubbing at his forehead and looking at her like he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to help her. "There's a lot of people here who've gone through some bad stuff. Nobody will judge you."

"I'm not ready, Zach, so drop it."

Zach blew a breath out through his nose and then looked over at her. "Okay, who would survive: Ironman or Batman?"

Julie scoffed. "That's a no brainer. Ironman. He know how to create his own self-sustaining power source, he could blow up entire herds in his suit alone, and he'd probably end up rebuilding civilization easy. Bruce Wayne has money, which is useless now. Okay, my turn. The Apes from Planet of the Apes or Teenage mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"Oh shit, that's a good one." Zach threw down his cigarette butt as he hauled himself to his feet. He offered Julie a hand up. "Okay, are we talking Charleton Heston's apes or next gen apes?"

"Next Gen." She grinned as Zach rolled his eyes. "The apes. Guarantee you there's walkers all up in the sewers of New York. The next Gen apes can swing through trees and ride horses and use guns. They'd probably do better than us, let's be honest."

"Well, who says the turtles stayed in New York?"

"Where would they go?"

"Hawaii."

"The surfing?"

"Cowabunga, dude."


End file.
